Protection
by Slayerbelle
Summary: A girl from Angel's dream shows him a whole new side to his past and present.
1. In Dreams

Disclaimer: Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel don't belong to me, but to Joss Whedon and all those who have a legal claim to them. Characters like Aurora and Ralph are of my imagination, though, forced somehow into their universe.   
  
Timeline: Somewhere after Are You Now or Have You Ever Been. Charles Gunn doesn't appear, because I couldn't figure out how to fit him in.  
  
Please send feedback to slayerbelle@go.com  
  
  
Protection  
  
by Slayerbelle   
  
  
Chapter 1 - In Dreams  
  
He dreamed about her only once, which didn't make up for the lifetime she'd devoted to him.  
  
He was in New York again, walking through the same foggy alleys. Only this time he walked them with no blinding hunger. He was himself, souled, tortured, but with a purpose, watching his old New York. There was music in his ear, like the dream had a soundtrack, punctuating his every step, his every movement. There was a woman singing the song in his head, and if he had bothered to stop and listen he was sure she was saying something relevant.   
  
And then he saw her. Not the source of the music in his head, but another girl entirely, standing under a street light at an empty intersection. Dark haired, petite, strangely familiar, though he was certain he had never seen her before.  
  
Something moved before his eyes and he blinked. Suddenly he was in his old house -- the abandoned mansion in Sunnydale. It was empty, but exactly as he had left it, like he was still in it. She was there, standing near the fireplace, right about where the chains hung from a metal ring in the ceiling. He approached her, tentatively.  
  
"Do I know you?" he asked.  
  
In a second his eyes seemed to shift and now he was in the Bronze, the way it was when he first came to Sunnydale years ago. He and the girl, looking at him in earnest now, standing still, ignored, in the middle of a packed dance floor.  
  
"You don't recognize me." Her voice dripped of regret, but she was smiling.   
  
"I don't."  
  
"It's OK." She moved closer to him, and he noticed that he was going to whisper something in his ear. She lifted herself up on her toes. He met her halfway by bending down.  
  
Her lips barely brushed his ear, moving in words that he couldn't hear. She finished what she said and straightened up. He wanted to ask her to say it again, he didn't hear her, and then he noticed that her left hand was concealed behind her back.  
  
She recoiled it and in one brisk motion plunged a stake into his heart.  
  
====  
  
As if to punctuate his primal scream at being dusted by the girl, he awoke to the more feminine scream emanating from downstairs, followed by a metallic crash.  
  
Heart, chest, limbs, check. Made a quick inventory before throwing himself out of bed to check on Cordelia. He secretly hoped she didn't have visions on the Ming vase he on a whim set atop the coffee table last week.  
  
By the time he got to her, she was trying to lift herself up onto the sofa.  
  
"Cordy."  
  
"This is a totally wrong place for a coffee table! You know I almost banged my head on that ugly blue urn?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm glad it's OK."  
  
Off her glare, he amended his relief. "I mean, I'm glad you're OK. That you didn't hit the expensive urn and all."  
  
"No thanks to you, Sleepy Boy."  
  
"Do you need anything? Water?"  
  
She gestured toward the spot where she was lying prone in just a second ago. "A nice little bean bag right *there* would have been perfect. No, I'm fine." Cordelia settled down into the couch and caught her breath. "It's a night club."  
  
"What you saw?"  
  
"The one we were just in last week -- I remember the aftertaste of the bad vodka and mixed nuts."  
  
"This is the one near the beach?"  
  
"Jazz At Harold's. Creepy valet. That's it." A few deep breaths and Cordelia was getting back on Cordy mode. "There's a girl. Brunette, little cheeky, long hair, she gets attacked by something. Why did you scream?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I heard you just now. Right before my head was chopped from the inside by my own PTB-sponsored ax. You screamed, I thought you were in trouble."  
  
"Bad dream."  
  
"Oh." Cordelia paused. Angel was never one to share, but she always gave him the obligatory pause before pouncing. "What exactly are bad dreams for you, anyway? I mean, monsters and demons are your normal life, so your nightmares would have to be... fluffy bunnies?"  
  
"A girl staked me."  
  
Her eyebrows twitched. "Slayer?"  
  
"No. Just a girl."  
  
====  
  
He didn't care if the vodka was bad, he couldn't taste it anyway.  
  
Angel scanned the moving bodies across the room, most of them couples paired off now, dancing slowly to the music of the handsome guy working the saxophone. Sexy music. If any girl was to be attacked, it would be after this song. He was almost certain her predator would be dancing with her right now, luring her into leaving the place with him after a few strategically placed hands and looks, a few hours of talking and a few glasses of bad liquor. This was that kind of place.  
  
No one was leaving the dance floor yet.   
  
He turned around, motioned the bartender to give him another round. He'd been waiting for an hour and still nothing, was already on his third drink. Cordelia should probably have given him a time. He didn't exactly bring enough cash for an all-night drinking spree.  
  
A Scotch this time. Straight. The glass was filled up in front of him, he lifted it up to the bartender and downed it in one swoop.   
  
And then he saw her. It was a quick, split-second reflection in the glass, but he saw her and he knew it was her.   
  
Across the room, the other side of the dance floor, looking at him, was the girl from his dream. A dancing couple moved in front of her and Angel craned his neck to catch another view of her, but she was gone.  
  
Weird, he thought to himself. He stood up from the bar stool, half ready to chase. He knew from experience that he shouldn't ignore his dreams, and that in his life coincidences were rare and far between. He crossed the dance floor, recalling in his head now if he had smelled her in his dream, because that would have made her easier to follow. He caught another scent instead.  
  
Vampire. From the dance floor, leading a blonde out into the alley.  
  
He hesitated. *Cordelia said brunette, and she won't be wrong about that.* But an assault was an assault, a vamp attack still a vamp attack.  
  
Angel stepped out into the alley just in time to catch the vamp sinking his fangs onto the girl.  
  
He tapped the vamp on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?"  
  
The vamp was as pissed as anyone rudely interrupted in the middle of a great meal. "Mind your own business, Soul Boy."  
  
Later on, it occurred to him that he should have asked about the origin of that comment. Would have saved him a whole lot of trouble. Instead, he chose this moment to skip the formalities, pull the well-dressed vamp from the blonde, and stake him.  
  
The blonde gasped and ran away at his request, but the vamp, two seconds later, was still twitching on the floor, stake impaled in his chest.  
  
"Damn, I missed." He said softly, but did not make a move, instead watched as the injured vamp's corpse twitched in pain. He knew from experience that this was a pain like no other -- like you were dying, only that pesky immortality thing just kicks in, and the pain never fades, it just goes on forever. Until someone un-impales you so you can heal.   
  
Times like these he felt Angelus was not really gone, just lurking, because there was no reason for his strange fascination with the demon's pain.  
  
A scream, a woman's scream, pierced the air. It was coming from around the corner. The brunette scheduled for saving, perhaps? Angel ran to check, turned the corner, into... nothing. The alley was empty.  
  
*I'm really off my game tonight,* he murmured, casually flipping the stake he had whipped out in his hand. Maybe Cordelia got the hair color wrong, maybe he really did save who he was supposed to save tonight. Might as well make one clean sweep and return home.  
  
Or not. As Angel returned to the alley where he staked well-dressed vamp, he saw a girl, *the* girl, leaning over him. He quickly hid behind the corner wall, unseen, watching as she removed the stake from the vamp's chest.   
  
The vamp kept on writhing, still in pain (a hole in your chest can do that to you). The girl placed a hand against his shoulder to suppress his jerking about and held another hand against his wound. Angel saw a green light emanate from her palm, a soft green glow that was like energy flowing into the vampire.  
  
Who stood up two seconds later and scampered off.  
  
*She healed him,* he thought incredulously. He thought it was impossible. Not only that, she had healed a vampire wearing his monster face, so she knew what she was doing.   
  
Shoes on pavement echoed in the alley. She threw a couple of cautious glances his way, and then started in the other direction.  
  
*Oh no you don't.*  
  
It was almost a growl. He sprang forward, soon outrunning her with his demon speed. She seemed to sense he was coming and whirled around, unafraid. His hand found her arm and grabbed, pushed her back against the wall.  
  
"Who are you?" He demanded.  
  
It wasn't just about the vamp healing now. They locked eyes and he knew it was her.  
  
"You recognize me?" she said, voice cracking because of the pressure of the wall against her lungs, not from fear.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"It's better if you just let me go, Angel."  
  
She staked him in his dream. She healed a vampire who almost killed a girl. Now he was pushing her against the wall she felt small, fragile, except for those steely eyes that didn't waver.   
  
Should he be afraid of her? She had power, he could sense it now, being close enough to feel her pulse. It was different.   
  
"You tell me who you are and we'll decide what's better for everyone," he hissed.  
  
She was stoic. Almost unfeeling. He moved his hand to her throat, pushed her back against the wall again.  
  
"Angel--" She started to protest again, but then stopped. Resolved to do as he asked. "My name is Aurora."  
  
"Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"  
  
"Aurora of the Kalderash people."   
  
====  
  
Pffffoooey.  
  
Not only was the coffee ickily lukewarm, there was too much water in the coffee maker in the first place so it might as well have been brewed water with a caffeine aftertaste.  
  
Cordelia tossed her cup back in the sink. The faucet started running seemingly on its own, the cup rinsing itself clean.  
  
"Dennis! You didn't have to. But next time use lemon fresh!"  
  
She realized it was Friday, and maybe she should have gone with Angel to the jazz bar. Bad vodka or not, she needed to get out more, she was starting to get those pangs of inadequacy again. Not like she could ask Wesley out again, because that would be just desperate and weird. At least when she was with Angel she got jealous glares from every other woman in the joint. That clears those inadequacy issues right up quick.  
  
Maybe it's not too late, she thought, lifting a hand to grab her coat. Maybe I can still catch him and get a few nasty glares before midnight.  
  
It hit her, again, before her hand touched the coat, missing it entirely now as she fell to floor, on the pillow that Dennis quickly slipped under her before she hurt herself.  
  
Not the visions again. This didn't happen to her, not twice in the same day, not twice about the same person. But it was like another scene from a Tarantino flick -- quick cuts, jumpy music, the same bar, the same girl, only she could see now who attacked her, who had her by her throat against the wall.  
  
Angel.  
  
Her sudden intake of breath became a gasp. Reeling from the attack, trying to get her wits back as the pain subsided, Cordelia grabbed the phone.  
  
What the hell was that about? Angel was supposed to be saving the girl, not -- unless, of course, that wasn't Angel.  
  
"Wesley!" she said. "Meet me at the hotel. No, in front of it. And stock up for the Big Contingency."  
  
====  
  
She looked nothing like Jenny Calendar but he believed her. Her features were so far removed from the gypsy family he had tortured he wouldn't have guessed, but she did have their blood coursing through her and he could feel it.  
  
He loosened up on her throat, just a little. "You worried about me turning again? I'd think your family would be off the hook by now, 'cause the curse this time around was performed by--"  
  
"Willow Rosenberg in Sunnydale. I know."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Please let go of me."  
  
Angel released her, and she straightened up, but didn't even blink. "Why?" he asked.  
  
"Where do you want me to begin?"  
  
"Why were you in my dream?"  
  
For the first time since they'd met, she seemed to be taken aback. It took her a beat to digest this, and then she laughed. "OK, I did not see that one coming."  
  
"Then let's start with the simple questions shall we? Why do you know me?"  
  
"Can we go back to your office? You probably need to sit down for this."  
  
====  
  
When they entered what was formerly known as the Hyperion Hotel, he noticed that she paused for a second at the door. She looked the place up, down, around, and kind of sighed.  
  
"I've never really been in here before," she said softly, as if sensing he had noticed her reaction to the place. "I mean, like this."  
  
They sat in silence the entire twenty-minute drive from the Jazz At Harold's bar to the hotel. Aurora had preferred not to say anything until he "had settled down."   
  
He had taken a softer tone with her. She didn't look like she was going to attack him, nor did he feel like restraining her. She just looked... well, normal. She couldn't have been taller than Buffy, or thinner. In her early twenties. He sensed something strong in her, but not power the way Buffy was a Slayer, not the way Willow was a witch.  
  
He couldn't put his finger on it.  
  
Now they were in his home, his office, and he was wondering whether he should offer her coffee.  
  
"Where would you like me to sit?" he asked.  
  
She pointed to the couches on their receiving area. "This should do just fine. You're not mocking me, are you?"  
  
"Listen, I don't know who you are--"  
  
"I know. You don't. You shouldn't." She watched him pick a couch and settle down before she sat right across from him. Drawing a breath all of a sudden, she exhaled it slow and ragged. "I don't know where to start. Too long a story, too many subplots. Ask me what's most bothering you first."  
  
"OK. Question number 1. Why do you know me?"  
  
She shook her head. "That's easy. I'm from the Kalderash family, Angel. We know you better than we know our own kind. You're the story they tell to put us to bed at night, you're what my family has in their nighmares. Of course I know you, Angel. Ask me another question."  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Doing what I've been doing the past eight years."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"Protecting you."  
  
She couldn't possibly. He almost laughed, because it was laughable.   
  
She smiled, understanding his disbelief. "OK, I can see how you won't be hiring me as your bodyguard anytime soon. And I don't really think you'll believe me if I tell you. Can you lie back against the couch please?"  
  
"What are you --"  
  
"Trust me. I told you, you need to settle down."  
  
Angel made a mental note of where his extra stake was lodged in his boot, though he doubted he'd need it. He leaned back against the couch, letting his head rest on one of the arms. Aurora crossed the space between them.  
  
"This won't hurt a bit," she said, kneeling in front of him, touching his forehead with her hand. Soft fingertips lightly against his skin.  
  
He didn't think he would be touching her, and for a split second he resisted her, but then he felt it.  
  
Or rather, saw it.  
  
Like in his dream, he saw his life from eight years in the past, only now he was watching it in the third person. A blur of images moving quickly past him, but he was seeing it all.  
  
New York. Starving, thirsty, hungry. Whistler.  
  
LA. His first look at Buffy.  
  
Sunnydale. First settling in. Falling in love. Turning into Angelus. Being sent to hell. Returning from it.   
  
LA again. The old Angel Investigations office. Doyle. Kate. The hotel.  
  
And then finally, the jazz bar.  
  
Aurora was there, she was all there.  
  
There was also fear. Hiding. Isolation. The feeling that people were hiding in the dark ready to pounce.  
  
She removed her hand and the visions went away.  
  
"You were there," he managed to choke out.  
  
"Everywhere you were." She affirmed.  
  
"How did I ... how did I not know?"  
  
"Cloaking spells. Sometimes good old fashioned hiding." Aurora returned to her seat as Angel struggled to sit up. "You understand now?"  
  
"Give me minute... my life just flashed before my eyes here." He was dizzy, eight years of cloaking spells lifting themselves right off him. "But I do, I do understand."  
  
"Oh good. Great." She sighed in relief.  
  



	2. Stranger In The House

Disclaimers in chapter 1  
  
send feedback to slayerbelle@go.com  
  
  
Protection  
  
by Slayerbelle  
  
  
Chapter 2 -- Stranger In The House  
  
"What do you mean we don't have Holy Water?"  
  
"Cordelia, I brought a ton of stakes and crosses at your request, I'm sorry if it's not to your liking."  
  
She was going to spaz out, she knew it. "Yeah, like that's gonna help in the middle of an evil invincible demon chomping on our necks!"  
  
"How are you even sure he's turned? You didn't see him did you?"  
  
"I saw him all right, when I was all Migraine Girl. He had a woman by the throat against a wall and it wasn't in the kinky way, unless the Powers That Be signals got crossed with demon porn!"   
  
Wesley winced at the image. "Cordelia, please."  
  
Ew. She had to shake off that feeling she'd just conjured too. "I just say, let's be careful. I don't know why the vision came like that, it just did."  
  
They both stepped in front of the Hyperion's door.  
  
Wesley paused. "Do you think we should ask him first?"  
  
"'Are you feeling evil right now?' I think I did that before, and denial is often the socially acceptable response."  
  
"It's not right just... bursting in armed. He's done nothing to make us suspicious of him."  
  
"Hello -- Migraine Girl got it in a vision!"  
  
"And I don't doubt the credibility of what you see, Cordelia, it's just that..."   
  
Wesley sighed, almost into the door they were face to face with.   
  
It takes a toll on him, Cordelia realized. It's hard to know you'll one day wake up and not be able to trust your friend.   
  
They've been through this deal, they pretty much know the drill. But in the past year they've gotten to know the Angel they never knew in Sunnydale, and the possibility of one day turning on him, though likely, just got harder every time.  
  
"I just mean you can't really prepare for this kind of thing." Wesley quickly said.  
  
"OK," She wasn't going to give him a hard time tonight. "Let's go in. Real subtle. Hide those stakes behind your back."  
  
Wesley nodded, lifting a hand to open the doors. Careful not to make any sound, he tiptoed in, Cordelia right behind him.  
  
"The lights are on." She whispered. "He's home."  
  
She was referring to the lights in their lobby, by the front desk, which was where they usually received their clients. As far as she could tell, they were the only lights on in the whole hotel.  
  
Wesley stopped tiptoeing for a second, so suddenly that Cordelia miscalculated and rammed into his back.  
  
"Oh, that's stealthy, Wesley!" she hissed.  
  
He lifted a finger to silence her. "I hear him talking."  
  
"What's he saying? Is it evil bragging? Angelus used to do that a lot, you know. Talk to no one in particular. Do the soap opera monologue."  
  
Lights flipped on in the entire ground floor of the hotel and Wesley and Cordelia stopped in their tracks, blinking at the sudden brightness.  
  
The former Watcher tossed her a look. "Oh right. The super sensitive senses."  
  
Might as well go for it, she was already caught with a stake in hand. "Are you evil?" she said.  
  
Angel flipped off some of the lights before returning to the couch, a little miffed at what would have been an ambush. Good-intentioned, and ill-organized, but an ambush all the same. "I'm not evil, Cordelia. You two might as well sit down. I want to introduce you to someone."  
  
And that was when she first noticed the girl sitting on the couch, not at all fazed by the scene that had just taken place.   
  
"The brunette!" Cordelia gasped. "And you're not evil! So it really was just demon porn?"  
  
Angel winced. What the hell? "Cordy." He turned to Aurora, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I mean, she talks like this sometimes..."  
  
"Don't worry." Aurora graciously stood up and offered her hand. "Cordelia Chase. Wesley Wyndam-Price. So glad to finally meet you. My name is Aurora Halley. Kalderash."  
  
*Of course, she knows them.* Eight years of being around him, she had to have known almost everyone he came across. Everyone he ever knew in that time. The look on her face, it was like recognition sparked in her.   
  
Cordelia and Wesley gripped her hand, both surprised as their names came up.  
  
"Kalderash?" Wesley went.  
  
"You know my name?" Cordelia exclaimed. "Was it from the Clearall commercial? 'Cause I was there, you know, the girl in the back in the end. That was my hair."  
  
"Huh?" Aurora paused. "Oh yes, you're an actress. Right. No, I haven't seen the commercial. Sorry."  
  
"You're Jenny Calendar's relative." Ever the intellectual, Wesley was currently putting it all together in his head.   
  
The name, however, hit Cordelia another way. Angel could see the shudder ripple through her, a genuine chill she hadn't felt in a long time. "Miss Calendar?" She sobered up a bit, and sat down. "What...what are you here for? Does it have to do with Angel's soul?"  
  
The change in Cordelia's mood was so quick and sudden that everyone in the room paused to give her space.   
  
Something painful twitched in Angel when it occurred to him that Cordelia was remembering. She always maintained an air of detachment -- flippance, almost -- about the events in high school, but he could see there were some things she'd rather not recall.  
  
"Are you all right, Cordelia?" Wesley sat down on the couch next to her.   
  
She flashed a smile, as if to brighten the memory away. "No, it's just... I remember... the picture. Angelus drew a picture of Miss Calendar's..." Cordelia cleared her throat. "Anyway. Ancient history. That time I was a cheerleader and could afford Prada. Time passes."  
  
"So, Aurora," Wesley interjected, "If your family is ... well, they can't really be happy with what Angelus has done ... why are you here?"  
  
She exchanged a look with Angel. "I have to tell them, don't I."  
  
"I trust them with my life, Aurora. You'll need them as well."  
  
She nodded and turned to Wesley. "I'm here because I've always been here. I was with Angel in New York, in Sunnydale, now in LA. That's why I know you, I know all of you."  
  
"You stalked him?" Cordelia said.  
  
"In a manner of speaking. To make a long story... oh whatever. Let's just say that the Kalderash family is divided on how to treat Angel, the family has been that way since the beginning. On one hand Angel was considered the family's biggest nightmare, and yet he was also their biggest... um, success."  
  
"Success?" Wesley looked at Angel, noticing how he seemed to already know the whole story. Poker faced as usual.   
  
"Aside from being involved in magics, the Kalderash, well then at least, were also very spiritual, very involved in different religions. While others believe that Angel's soul restoration was the ultimate act of vengeance on our part, others thought more out of the box and saw it as the perfect opportunity for his redemption."  
  
"Redemption?" Wesley repeated to himself. "Why would your family care about his redemption?"  
  
"I don't know where and when the idea began, but it became enough. The punishment. What mattered eventually was that here was a demon, with strength, skill, and a soul, who could eventually become the greatest champion for the good." Aurora let her words sink in before laughing a little. "It sounds hokey, but at some point in our history someone got that idea."  
  
"And you're part of that family branch." Wesley said.  
  
Aurora nodded. "Yes. Vengeance can only heal you so much, actually... that's wrong. It sates you but leaves you empty. What we've learned thus far is that forgiveness is what heals the victim, redemption heals the ... the abuser. And that's not just Hallmark-card cheese, I truly do believe that." Her eyes turned to Angel just then, full of genuine caring. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."  
  
Wesley remembered his original question. "That brings to that then. Why you're here."  
  
"To ensure Angel lives long enough to... to redeem himself, someone in my family is called to help him. He has no greater enemy -- he is a demon, he is strong, he can take care of himself. The only thing that can actually take his life is his despair. That's what the person who is called does, anyway. We're equipped with, um, abilities. To sense his despair, and we're given the means to help keep him alive."  
  
"So you have powers then?" Wesley asked.  
  
Aurora nodded. "All kinds. Magic. Strength. The most basic of them being, I can sense Angel's despair. That's kind of essential, so we know when to intervene."  
  
"How do you... how would that be done, anyway? I'm very curious."  
  
"It has something to do with..." Aurora held up her hand. "May I, Angel?"  
  
He was still sitting in the couch across from her. "Uh, sure. OK."  
  
Without moving from her chair, Aurora squinted a little, concentrating. Her open palm faced Angel's chest. And then from her palm, emanated a soft green glow again, not brighter than most light bulbs, but shining and mesmerizing still.  
  
Cordelia sucked in her breath. "Wow."  
  
He didn't feel a thing. What was he expecting to feel, though, all warm inside? This was how she had gotten through all this time without being detected... she literally looked into his soul for eight years and he didn't feel a thing.  
  
He wondered about her all of a sudden. Devoted her life to a thankless task.   
  
"Hope. It's what makes the glow." Aurora flicked her fingers and the green light was gone. "The softer the glow, the more in despair Angel is. At some point I'm supposed to intervene, when he is seriously becoming... suicidal. My other power is very tricky. I can do so many things, heal, fly, mind-read... but only on two conditions: to save my life, or to save Angel's. The saving my life part's pretty easy, one time I was mugged in New York and I easily beat the guy to unconsciousness, I suddenly learned kung fu or something. For saving Angel, though, the process is a lot more big picturey and I don't necessarily get it."  
  
"This evening she healed a staked vampire." Angel said.  
  
Aurora could see the protest forming in Wesley and Cordelia's mouths. "Yes, but that's what I was supposed to do. I can't heal anything on a whim, I was able to because it was what I was supposed to do. For you, Angel. I swear, I don't go around medicating the already dead."   
  
Cordelia raised her hand, like she was in class. "OK. With you so far. You're here to help him out. You stalked him for... for how long?"  
  
"Eight years."  
  
"OK. You've got that cool glowy suicide meter. But how would healing a vamp help Angel?"  
  
Aurora was stumped. "I don't know. These things... they just come to me. In my head. I don't really question them."  
  
"Visions?" Cordelia perked up at the possibility of a soul sister.  
  
"More like dreams. In metaphors and all, but very specific."  
  
"And what other deeds have you done for Angel? To rescue him from despair." Wesley asked.  
  
She looked up at Angel, drawing in her breath tentatively.  
  
He knew what she was going to say. He'd seen what she'd done, when she had touched him. It was like he was remembering everything now, correctly, as she was recounting her story. His life had flashed before his eyes and he knew what she was going to say.  
  
"She introduced me to Buffy." he said softly.  
  
Cordelia recoiled. "Hoo-what?"  
  
Wesley did too, but not as wildly. "But you were approached by a demon named Whistler, Angel..." He turned to Aurora, the pieces all falling together in his head. "And you in turn approached Whistler. Angel was ... was loitering about in New York. Starving. At the end of his rope. You wanted to give him a purpose."  
  
She smiled. "Actually I was young. That whole purpose thing was incidental. All I wanted him to do was start dating, maybe it'll get him to take a shower once in a while."  
  
"But it worked," Wesley caught on quickly. "You gave Angel a reason to be alive, until..."  
  
"Until he got too happy and started the killing spree." Cordelia finished for him. "You must have gotten a lot of flak for that. I mean, it was your idea after all. Didn't they warn you not to give him too much of a happy?"  
  
"I didn't know that would happen! It was almost perfect, the curse. They designed it to be that cruel, that unkind. Because perfect happiness is unattainable, or at least many philosophies would tell us so. Angel, it turns out, is not like any other. And yes, I got a tremendous amount of flak for it. But I never regretted that decision, because being with her gave him more hope and love than any human being gets in a normal lifetime and feeling that in him ... it wasn't worth the trouble it caused, but I'm glad that's what he'll remember. He'll always have that."  
  
And then Angel felt guilty. Was it possible that he really owed this stranger this much? She had done her job and watched over him for most of her adult life, and yet he knew nothing about it. There was a ... familiarity with which she treated them, the way she talked to Wesley and Cordelia -- not being surprised at his scholarly interrogations, not fazed by her colorful side comments.  
  
"If I'm to understand this, your whole calling relies on Angel not knowing you are there to... protect him." Wesley added suddenly.  
  
Aurora nodded, a little sheepishly. "Well, yeah."  
  
"I would guess cloaking spells?"  
  
"Yes. Several. They don't all work 24/7, so most of the time the MO is just to not introduce myself into Angel's life."  
  
"And what's changed now?"  
  
"I don't know." Aurora touched her throat, bruised from Angel's earlier chokehold. "He knew. He just... came at me in that alley. I knew he was there, so it was no big, but he said he knew me and that was just weird."  
  
"Oh, Angel attacked you because of me." Cordelia volunteered. "Looks like not a lot of people understood that vision of mine."  
  
"And I'm not the only one after her." Angel said. "That I found out about her at all means the cloaking spells are weakening."  
  
"Why? Who else could be after you?" Wesley asked.  
  
"The other side of the family," Aurora said. "Needless to say, they're not happy that their own kind is turning against them. We hide not just from Angel but from them also. They try to find out who we are, and they... well, former protectors of Angel have never been heard from again."  
  
"Oh. And yet in one night three people found out about your true identity." Wesley observed. "That doesn't go well for you."  
  
"It doesn't."   
  
"I think you should stay here tonight." Angel offered. "The room next to mine's empty."  
  
"It's OK, I've done the danger thing before, Angel."  
  
"Not with me knowing about it. I can take you back to your place tomorrow, tonight you stay here." He was firm now, being the boss. She buckled.   
  
"OK." she said softly.  
  
====  
  
The Acquisitions Department was on the fifteenth floor, and it had the floor all to itself because of the considerable storage space the department consumed.  
  
Because at Wolfram and Hart, Acquisitions didn't necessarily mean acquiring corporations.  
  
The security issue had gotten a lot more complicated since Ralph had turned. Back in the day, the barcoded ID and the quick pass through the sentient guard got him through. But no, now that he was fanged, it was the ID, the cleansing spell so the anti-vampire alarm wouldn't clang, and finally the sentient guard. The cleansing spell was unpleasant and left him feeling funny, it wasn't the best thing to go through when you were feeling restless.   
  
The combination was in his office. Also the file he had just filled out, which he had to consult because he couldn't remember what deposit box he put the thing in. Despite it being way past midnight lights were still on in different regions of the floor. Because a lot of Wolfram and Hart associates were dedicated to their jobs. Lived and breathed them.  
  
Box 72-865. Great.  
  
He had access to the storage area, so he had no problem doing his business there. It was an easy mission anyway -- go in, get the thing, use it, put it back.  
  
Box 72-865 was in Storage Room 7. Ralph walked in and flipped on the lights.  
  
"Ralph, we just got you that suit. You've ruined it already."   
  
Ralph almost gasped. "Lindsey. Dammit, it's late. Go home or sleep or whatever it is that you do."  
  
Lindsey McDonald, Wolfram and Hart junior partner, was knee deep in files taken from, apparently, Box 72-870. Ralph knew he was very human, but he never seemed to sleep. Or eat. Or leave the office.  
  
"This *is* what I do," he said with a cocky smile. "What found its way into your suit?"  
  
"A stake."  
  
"Bad shot."  
  
"Hell yeah." Ralph searched for his box and yanked it out of the wall lined with storage boxes. "It was that Angel."  
  
At the name, Lindsey nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes burned with a remembered pain, but he didn't verbalize it. "He normally hits the bulls-eye the first time, Ralph. You must have squirmed or something."  
  
"Yeah, bulls-eye. Like that fantastic job he did on your hand." Ralph worked the combination on the box, clumsily at first because of his restlessness. And then the lock gave, and he retrieved what he had come here for.  
  
"A breadknife?" Lindsey observed as Ralph lifted the silver object from the box.  
  
"The Feuralian Knife." Ralph held it up against the light. It was not much larger than the breadknives Lindsey was referring to. Intricate carving on its silver handle was handmade, dated around 1565. Its blade, the knife's most interesting feature, was not smooth at all. Also carved with very intricate designs, the blade was blessed by an entire order of monks in England in the 16th century. The knife was a classic, and Ralph had gone through paperwork hell to acquire it from the secluded monastery in the English countryside. Paperwork because he killed a whole lot of monks to get it, and he had to itemize each casualty with full accountability and detail and that was just too corporate for his taste.   
  
"That's not wood, not going to work."  
  
Ralph flashed the thing at Lindsey. "Oh it will work, eventually. After several hours of terminal, escalating pain."  
  
"He must have hit a sore spot, that Angel. For you to pull out the big guns."  
  
Ralph eyes burned with anger. "I lay on the ground and he watched me. He just watched me."  
  
"May I ask how you got back here, without a stake in the wrong place on your chest?"  
  
"A girl." Ralph was preoccupied now, returning the box to its shelf. "She took out the stake and healed me. Well, I got to go, Lindsey. Vicious murder planned and all."  
  
Lindsey waved as Ralph closed the door behind him. Of course he knew about the Feuralian Knife. Once stabbed into the heart of a vampire it activates a process of slow, menacingly painful death, dusting the vamp from the inside, so slowly that he actually feels himself disintegrating. Ralph may have done the legwork on acquiring that artifact, but Lindsey had done his homework on it as well.  
  
He doubted Ralph would succeed. Ralph was young, he didn't know the legend of Angelus as comprehensively as one who planned to kill him should. Lindsey knew Ralph wouldn't be back at work the next night.   
  
But he said something about a girl. Who could heal vampires. Wasn't there a file on that somewhere? Lindsey shuffled through some papers and picked up the telephone.  
  
====  
  
The new information was just swirling around Wesley's head, so much that he couldn't sleep. Not even on the hotel lobby's sofa which he had always found quite comfortable.  
  
When light began to sift into the hotel through the windows around 6 am, he stopped pretending to doze off and just stood up, careful not to disturb Cordelia softly breathing on the other couch.  
  
He smelled coffee coming from the kitchen. Angel was in there making it.  
  
"You didn't have to, Angel." Wesley said, taking a cup from out of the dish drainer.  
  
He got a strange look in return. "It's for Aurora."  
  
"Oh. I'm sure she won't mind if it's missing a cupful then." Wesley poured himself some and took his place on the kitchen table. He rotated the cup several times before tasting it. "Why aren't you asleep? You must have been up over twenty-four hours now."  
  
"I don't really need that much rest anyway."  
  
"True." And then the silence fell between them.  
  
"I guess you want me to talk about last night."  
  
"Do you believe her?"  
  
He nodded solemnly. "I do. I believe she is what she says she is. It's like I remember her now, I see her in my memories."  
  
"You don't think she's lying."  
  
"No."  
  
"You don't think she's been sent by... I don't know, Wolfram and Hart."  
  
"No." The same firmness. "I remember her."  
  
"Any good witch -- one from the Kalderash clan at that -- can work any kind of ... augmentation ritual on you."  
  
Angel paused to think. "No. Wolfram and Hart... it doesn't make sense."  
  
"Why not? You already have her in your home. Sleeping in the room next to yours. Your guard is down."  
  
"It's not." Angel sat opposite Wesley on the table. "I do believe her, Wesley."  
  
"OK. Just checking." He sipped his coffee -- much like one would sip tea, different thing altogether, though -- and noticed something. "You can't be that worried about her life, Angel. She's lived in this danger for eight years, she is at least knowledgeable in various survival skills."  
  
"I'm bothered. By how I found out."  
  
"Oh yes, you did, didn't you? You knew about her before she revealed herself to you."  
  
"I forced her to reveal herself to me." Angel shook his head, still plagued by not knowing what it meant. "I had a dream about her. I mean, the dream. It revealed to me who she was."  
  
"Have you always dreamed symbolically?"  
  
"Not specifically. I have nightmares, comes with the territory. Except... except this turned out to be true. It was like --"  
  
"-- a vision." Wesley hypothesized. Interesting.  
  
He couldn't bring himself to say it, and seemed to be glad that Wesley took upon the initiative.  
  
"I was thinking about this all night as well. I personally think the Powers are involved in this."  
  
"The Powers?" Angel had obviously considered this already, but was waiting for Wesley's take on it.  
  
So he went right on it. "I believe her also, and I think she -- and her kind -- are instruments of the Powers. They may call them by another name, but I believe that's the call they respond to. The Powers need the vampire with a soul for the coming terrors, and your protectors are there to make sure you make it to that day. It fits. It makes sense."  
  
"It doesn't explain why I would find out."  
  
"That's right. Your finding out ... it weakens their effectivity, really. From now on you will recognize their attempts at keeping you from despair and if you are truly in that state you will refuse their help. It's not wise for you to know they exist." Wesley shook his head at this one. "This is why you're worried about her."  
  
"I don't know what to do with her, Wesley."  
  
====  
  
One of the bad things about sleeping on the couch in the Hyperion Hotel lobby was that it was surrounded by a lot of windows and at a certain time of day sunlight just hits you right in the face.  
  
That time of day was usually seven a.m., much to Cordelia's dismay.  
  
She tried to swat the sunlight from her eyes -- no such luck though -- so she rolled over and tried to face away from the source. Her eyes opened a bit and she saw Aurora sitting on the other couch, the one Wesley had taken, fully awake and looking at her.  
  
"Jeez!" Cordelia exclaimed, startled. "You really do have this stalking thing down, don't you?"  
  
She smiled. "Sorry. I just woke up, was supposed to go to the kitchen but Angel and Wesley were talking about me. I didn't want to intrude."  
  
"Oh yes, well, when those two gossip you can't get a word in edgewise anyway." Cordelia stretched herself into a sitting position and breathed in the smell of coffee brewing. "So... did you get one of those vision dreams of yours last night?"  
  
"No," Aurora replied. "They don't come as regularly as they used to."  
  
"Do they feel like your head is being pounded by a very large blunt object?"  
  
"No, they're just dreams."  
  
"Oh. I got gypped." Cordelia sighed. "My visions come like amazingly angry little men with wooden sticks that just start marching around and vandalizing property in my head, you know what I mean? It's not pretty at all. I can't believe Doyle stuck me with this."  
  
"Well, he always thought you were special."  
  
It was like Cordelia had been struck in the face, only she crumpled at the blow and didn't strike back as she normally would. "What did you say?"  
  
"Doyle. He always thought you were --"  
  
"You -- you knew Doyle?" Suddenly she understood how blown away Angel was with the knowledge that this girl knew almost every aspect of his life. It was like she was there, an extra person in the room they never saw or heard. "Did you ... was it your idea to send Doyle to Angel? To be his vision guy?"  
  
"Not my idea. That was Doyle's destiny, not Angel's. But I knew him because ... well, similar workplace and all. We'd compare notes and stuff. We'd talk about you all the time."  
  
It would have been almost a year by now, but the sadness just seemed to always come up no matter how hard she tried to purge it. Sometimes she thought she would never get over it, that she should nurture the sadness left by Doyle's death. But sometimes she felt guilty that she was hanging on to what might have been. Like Doyle loving her.   
  
He kind of said he did, that last night, but it was such an intense experience. He was about to sacrifice his life and all. People don't really get to clarify their statements after that.  
  
The tears just welled up, all of a sudden. She didn't cry over Doyle anymore, not after this long.   
  
"I'm sorry," Aurora said quickly. "He knew it was his time, Cordelia. He was punishing himself for something he'd done and that night he found his redemption. I believe he knew it was his time."   
  
Cordelia brushed the tears off, no big. "Yeah, well, there are lots of other things to live for than counting your sins. He didn't have a chance to know that." She wasn't angry anymore, or wounded, just sad.   
  
Aurora sighed. "You're absolutely right."   
  
"I am?"  
  
"People like him and me, we walk around like this is the only thing we have in our lives. And that becomes true, we get too into it that we forget -- how to do other things."  
  
"Yeah, well..." And Cordelia stopped there, realizing that the sadness appeared on the other side of the fence too. "What did the Irish man say about me?"  
  
"Oh, at first it was all whining. What should he do to make you notice him, blah blah. He said he got nothing but snappy retorts." Aurora smiled at the memory. "I told him if your relationship with Xander Harris was any indication, he was on the right track."  
  
"Xander -- oh yeah, you know Xander. This is so weird. It's like we went to high school together, only I never talked to you or anything. Which could have really happened, you know, because I was a cheerleader."  
  
*She knows so much about me*, Cordelia realized again, the implications of it kicking into her seven a.m. head. How she and Xander broke up. The accident where she got impaled. Graduation day. And when Angel turned.  
  
"You have all this power to help Angel and stuff. How come you didn't use it?" she asked all of a sudden. "I mean, after Angel got all evil. Your magic people could have passed you a note about putting his soul back in, right?"  
  
She paused to think, not at all taken aback by Cordelia's candor. "I don't think they knew how. They'd been trying to retrieve the curse for almost a century, but the people who knew it had been murdered and eventually the language died. Only Jenny was able to successfully get a close enough translation for it to work..." She drifted off for a second. "And when Angel lost his soul, I lost my powers. At times it was like he... disappeared. I couldn't feel him anymore, couldn't sense him. Couldn't connect to him."  
  
"What did you do the whole time he was bad?"  
  
"Hung out. I was pretty much unemployed. Of course stalling the going home bit, because I knew I was gonna get chewed on. And I did. But they couldn't really blame me because no one saw it coming. And then Angel somehow reemerged from hell, so I went back to work."  
  
Even though she said it was "work", Aurora spoke with the pride of someone who truly loved her calling. Cordelia could see the eyes lighting up at the memories. She herself never spoke about her visions like that. Even Doyle, for all his inherent goodness, seemed to take it as a punishment for a wrong, a cross he had to bear. Not this girl.  
  
"Are you in love with Angel?" she blurted out.  
  
For all Aurora's non-surprise at her sudden topic shifts, this one threw her off a little.  
  
But she must be at least a little smitten.  
  
Aurora chose her words carefully. Or not. "I do love him. He's the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me. Sometimes I think when I grow old and look back he's the only one I'll remember, and be proud of."   
  
"But you're not in love with him?"  
  
"There won't be any soul-losing, that's for sure."  
  
"It doesn't bother you that he didn't even know you existed? I mean, you're giving the best years of your life to him."  
  
"I actually didn't think about it until last night. When he actually talked to me. Well, grabbed me and threw me against the wall is closer to the truth." Aurora touched her neck, still bruised from Angel's hold, and looked at Cordelia. "What's it like? Being his friend. Being around him."  
  
Oh the things she could have said. Being around Angel the past year, she'd known him a lot more than she did when they were in Sunnydale. Cordelia sometimes hoped his opinion of her had changed in that time. It wasn't always fun -- they'd had their share of scares and sometimes she was sure he thought she was a nuisance, but...  
  
"Same here." Cordelia said, with conviction. "He is by far the best thing to happen to me."  
  
The two girls looked at each other and let that realization sink in. Cordelia saw the hope in her eyes, and she knew she shouldn't feel sad for Aurora but she did. While Cordelia felt almost the same pride and love for her tortured boss, her care and concern was at least reciprocated.   
  
Angel stepped out into the lobby. "Aurora," he said. "I made coffee for you."  
  
Aurora smiled, but Cordelia caught the tail end of a sigh there. "Thanks. I'd love that."  
  



	3. The Long Way Home

Disclaimers in chapter 1  
  
send feedback to slayerbelle@go.com  
  
  
Protection  
  
by Slayerbelle  
  
  
Chapter 3 -- The Long Way Home  
  
"Turn right here," Aurora said.  
  
Angel turned the black convertible into the street she mentioned. Five minutes and she was quiet. After a night full of talking -- she hadn't talked to him about it yet. At all.  
  
She was looking away from him, her hair doing flipping things in the wind because the top was down. Her slender arm was casually draped on the car door, almost hanging from it. She looked almost fragile like this, but there was still something about her he couldn't figure out.  
  
"This is where you live?" he asked.  
  
"No, this is where you're dropping me off."  
  
"Aurora, I'm taking you home."  
  
"You can't." She said firmly.  
  
The defiance in her reminded him of other women in his life -- they never seemed to want his help, ever. "Aurora, there are dangerous people after you --"  
  
"I know how to--"  
  
"I know how dangerous they are because you showed it to me, Aurora. I have that in my head now, I'm not going to let you go on alone."  
  
"Believe me, I'm more afraid right now of the people I work for than those out for my blood. They see me with you and they know I broke the fundamental rule that governs us."  
  
"What is it? This rule."  
  
She turned her head and looked at him now. "That our work be completely unknown and thankless."  
  
"If it matters, Aurora, I haven't thanked you yet."  
  
She laughed at this. "It doesn't matter what you think of it, Angel."  
  
"But I don't want you risking your life for... for me."  
  
"Well tough luck because you don't get a say in it." Aurora shook her head. "You shouldn't have found out. There's a reason why we have these rules, you know."  
  
"But I did."  
  
"Yes, you did. How did you know?"  
  
"I don't know. I just did." He didn't want to get into it now, the dreams, what Wesley considered visions.  
  
Aurora thumped her palm against the dashboard. "Stop the car here."  
  
Angel screeched to a halt, the car ending up in front of a seedy bar strip. "What are we doing here?"  
  
"I was just saying that I know what kind of danger I'm in. I know that if this is the beginning of Jenny's family discovering who I am then I'm not supposed to be walking alone at night. But that's not what I'm most worried about now, Angel." She unlocked the car door. "If my family sees me with you it's over for me."  
  
Aurora lifted herself off the seat, ready to get off, but Angel's hand on her arm rooted her inside the car. "Why? What are they going to do to you, Aurora?"  
  
"They won't kill me or anything, they'll just... fire me. I don't want to get fired." And she was pleading now, softly tugging at her arm. "I have to go."  
  
Against his judgment his grip on her softened and she was able to get away. Slamming the car door behind her, she started walking away from him, muttering something under her breath.  
  
He realized she might be doing a cloaking spell and would literally disappear before him. He leapt out of the car. "Aurora! Stop! Please."  
  
She stopped, turned around. "We can talk about this another time." She was hissing now, as if people were watching, listening. They probably were.  
  
"I can't track you down. You can easily disappear on me. Look, what I do and how long I live doesn't matter. What I know is you're putting yourself in great danger continuing this... this job of yours and we can help you. We can protect you, Aurora."  
  
"I have no doubt about that, Angel, but again -- not the point!"  
  
He closed the distance between them until he was towering over her, their eyes locked again in that defiance. "You can't do this. You can't just show me how dangerous your life is and expect me to sit back and let it happen to you. That's not why you let me know that."  
  
Why did she let him find out about everything? He was sensing a cry for help somewhere in her, even as she stared back at him, not moving.  
  
"Excuse me miss, but is this guy bothering you?"  
  
The voice came from Angel's right.   
  
It all happened in a split second, and because everyone involved had extremely heightened senses everything would have been a blur to spectators.  
  
The vampire on Angel's right -- was Ralph, and he recognized him as the same one he had staked and Aurora had healed. But this time he had brought along three of his friends, and it all got a bit ugly.  
  
Ralph nixed the commentary and just lunged at Angel with a stake. Two of his friends grabbed at Aurora each at an arm. An energy rippled through her, Angel could see -- he was in danger and so was she, and suddenly she was in hypergirl mode.  
  
Meanwhile, Ralph's other friend was helping him out in the staking of Angel mission. Angel kicked him into Ralph and jumped in to help Aurora, but could see that she was holding her own quite well.  
  
With the grace of an expert, she kicked and punched at the two vamps after her. One of them lunged at her from behind and tackled her, and she lost her footing and fell. Grabbing on to the nearby parking meter, she pulled herself up.  
  
Angel tossed her a stake from his coat, which she caught without missing a beat, and staked one vamp and then the other.  
  
At the same time, Angel was just finishing off Ralph's friend. As that one turned to dust, Ralph dropped his stake and reached into his pocket. The Feuralian Knife.  
  
"What is that, a breadknife?" Angel taunted. "You pay me back by staking me with a breadknife?"  
  
Ralph paused, annoyed. "I kill fifty monks for this and no one appreciates it. Hell."   
  
Angel braced himself. Aurora screamed.  
  
"Angel, step to the left!"  
  
Ralph made his first strike and Angel, ignoring Aurora's strange instruction, stepped forward to meet him with a punch. He caught a glimpse of Aurora from over Ralph's shoulder for a split second and realized she was running -- running toward them, at an amazing speed. He could feel the disturbance in the air and the heat on the ground and he hesitated.  
  
In the next moment she was there, plunging a stake into Ralph's heart from the back, her speed and strength pushing Ralph into him before he turned to dust -- and the Feuralian Knife lodging itself into Angel's arm.  
  
His scream echoed Ralph's and Aurora's. As Ralph disintegrated on the floor, Angel dropped to his knees.  
  
"Angel. Angel. Oh God." She kneeled next to him, pulling the bloody knife out of his arm. "I told you to move!"  
  
"You told me to step to the left. I don't necessarily hear that in combat, Aurora." It was a small knife but the pain had been unusually sharp and searing. He picked it off the floor and looked at it. "Do you know what this is?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. Maybe Wesley would be able to look it up." Aurora was breathing hard, the adrenaline or whatever possessed her slowly working its way to a calm. There was a cut across her temple. Angel lifted a hand, reaching for her.  
  
"You're hurt," he said. "How effectively do your powers protect you?"  
  
Aurora didn't realize she was bleeding. "It's just a weapon. It's effective if I use it well." She brushed off his hand and instead put pressure on his wound. He saw her concentrate on her palm, and then shrug. "I can't do it again. I can't heal you. I'm not supposed to. What should I do now, Angel?"  
  
"You know how to drive?"  
  
====  
  
And then they were back in the Hyperion Hotel. Angel refused any special attention to his wound, he knew it would heal in a while.   
  
He lay back a while to get his act together, not realizing he had drifted off into sleep for an hour or so. When he came to, he quickly went back into the lobby, where Wesley had papers and books strewn all about.  
  
"What is it?" Angel asked, pointing to the knife, still red with his dried blood.  
  
Wesley looked up. "It's something called the Feuralian Knife. It was supposed to kill you slowly and very painfully."  
  
"Not very effective then."  
  
"But that's not all." Wesley picked up the knife and showed it to him. "Notice the intricate carvings on the blade and the handle."  
  
It indeed was no bigger, or sharper, than a breadknife. The carvings Wesley was talking about were small, very precise designs on the metal. "This is significant how?"  
  
"I didn't really notice it at first, but the dried blood brings out features in the carving probably not normally noticeable in its usual state... anyway, I found some familiar things." Wesley lifted another sheet of paper from the pile. The Scroll of Aberjian.  
  
Angel barely spoke it. "The Scroll."  
  
Wesley's voice was filled with contained excitement. "Several of the prophecies here are of languages totally unknown to us. A lot of them seem to have no documentation in history. I'd always assumed they were existing demon languages, and they may as well be, but Angel, this knife, these carvings... it's like a key. These carvings are representations of the characters... and how to translate them into Ancient Rumaji. Which is a rare but at least documented language."  
  
"Which prophecies will we be able to read with the help of this, this knife?"  
  
"A lot. Almost all of them." Wesley pointed to the particular prophecies, all unrecognizable scribbles on parchment. "It won't be easy, but it'll only be a matter of time. This was a fortunate find, Angel. Very fortunate."  
  
Fortunate indeed.   
  
He remembered something. "Where's Aurora?"  
  
Wesley shifted in his seat. "Um, she left."  
  
"She left? I told her not to-- where did she go? Why did you let her leave?"  
  
"Well, if I was aware she was our prisoner, I might have not opened the door for her." Wesley retorted. "She had to leave, Angel. And I pretty much let her."  
  
Angel shook his head, and a faint pain shot up his arm. "It's dangerous for her, Wesley, I didn't let her go--"  
  
"Angel, she has to do what she's supposed to do. You can't interfere with that."  
  
Angel paused. "Did she tell you where she lives?"  
  
Wesley shifted in his seat again.   
  
"Well, did she?"  
  
"I know where to find her, if that's what you're asking." Wesley answered. "But I promised not to tell you. She'll contact me if she needs help, Angel, and only when she wants it. You're not to involve yourself in her affairs."  
  
"This while she's neck-deep in mine."  
  
"She'll be fine. You just... drink tea."  
  
At that moment, the hotel doors opened and Cordelia stepped in. "Oh, you're up," she told Angel, tossing car keys on top of the Scroll of Aberjian. "I just borrowed the convertible. Nothing happened, no big."  
  
"What do you mean, you took the car?" Angel demanded.  
  
"I just drove Aurora over to --"  
  
Wesley shot her a look, gingerly removing the keys from the top of the important document.  
  
Cordelia quickly caught herself. "--to an undisclosed location which I will not be revealing to you. But the car is fiiiine."  
  
"I don't believe this!" Angel stood up for emphasis, but a pain shot up his arm again and he fell back into the couch. The knife was serious business, he couldn't believe the discomfort he was having over the little thing. "You let her walk out there. A whole family seeking vengeance is out there looking for her, they think she's a traitor, and when they find her they will not treat her kindly."  
  
"But she can defend herself, right?" Cordelia said. "She has that whole magic thing going for her."  
  
"She's not immortal," Angel insisted.   
  
"Angel," Wesley interjected, firmly now. "Aurora has decided not to give up her calling despite this setback. She's fully aware of the danger she is in and Cordelia and I know how to reach her in case of, well, in case we have to. She has expressly asked to keep you out of the loop on this, and we have to respect that."  
  
"Yes, Angel, just let the girl continue stalking you in peace, OK?" Cordelia said, plopping down to sit as well. She nudged Wesley's foot. "So, you told him about the decoder ring thingy? Funny how this all worked out, right?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "Go ahead and tell me what's funny, Cordelia. I can't figure it out."  
  
"Well let's see. My vision led you to Aurora. You see her heal a vampire. You bring her here. You take her home. You get attacked by the vampire she healed, who just happens to attack you with a knife that Wesley here thinks is pretty hot stuff. Isn't that funny? You think it's just a whole string of screw-ups, but you still got the knife."   
She leaned back against the seat, satisfied with herself. "So this all happened because of me, and I will accept your gratitude in US currency, thank you very much."  
  
"She's right, you know." Wesley said. He picked up the knife, turned it over slowly in his palm. "I think, in the end, you were supposed to get this. The Powers made sure of it."  
  
Angel chose to stay silent at this, watching the small metal object turn in Wesley's hand. Aurora's anonymity and safety for a knife -- the thing better be as good as Wesley said it was. 


	4. Hide Only Me

Disclaimers in chapter 1  
  
send feedback to slayerbelle@go.com  
  
  
Protection  
  
by Slayerbelle  
  
  
Chapter 4 -- Hide Only Me  
  
A gyrating girl in a pink tank top stumbled into Angel, who quickly caught her by the elbow and helped her stand. He tossed a look over at Cordelia, who was nursing a Long Island Iced Tea by the bar.  
  
She waved him off dismissively. "No, not her, someone taller!" Cordelia yelled over the din.  
  
The girl giggled away with what passed off as an apology and Angel made his way back to the bar. "Aren't you under 21?" he said to Cordy, just as the bartender passed her a cocktail napkin.  
  
Cordelia almost choked on her beverage. Her mouth opened, and a loud laugh came out. To the bartender, she went, "He's such a kidder. Get him a Scotch please."   
  
He gave her a onceover, then gave up pretty easily. Just as he left, Cordy swatted her boss with the cocktail napkin. Who actually didn't notice, because he was busy scanning the crowd.  
  
This was a different bar Cordelia led them to, one that favored electric guitar music and rock groups, where people were jumping around and calling it dancing. In a lot of ways it reminded him of The Bronze back in Sunnydale, and then he felt a little pang of longing. It wasn't as though Sunnydale was home -- no place was home, really -- it just reminded him of a time when his life had oddly become simpler, and he missed it.  
  
Cordelia was at the moment fixing her top, tapping her feet to the music, not at all vigilant about the attack she had just been warned of in her vision. She saw Angel eyeing her. "I'll know when I see her! In the meantime you... I don't know, not frown or something."  
  
He scanned the crowd again, thanking the bartender who placed the Scotch in front of him. He tipped the glass, taking the shot down in one smooth move, and he saw her again.  
  
Just a reflection in the glass, which he followed to the other side of the dance floor. She started walking to him. He left the bar to meet her halfway.  
  
"Hey." he said, barely hearing his own voice.   
  
She lifted a finger and pointed to the corner of the room, at least farther away from the blaring speakers. He followed her there.  
  
"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye," she said, at least somewhat audible now.  
  
"You're not seriously going back." he said.   
  
Aurora smiled, like he was a child who didn't understand. "Oh I am."  
  
"Aurora, you have amazing powers. We try to reach so many people, and imagine what you can do working with us. You can't waste that on me."  
  
They looked at each other, eyes meeting, and he could see her answer already. There was a serenity in her eyes, a lack of fear.   
  
"This isn't a job, Angel. I actually do believe in what I do. And I don't think anything is going to waste if I do it for you. But you realize that you can't ever contact me again, don't you?"  
  
"I need to know if you're still OK."  
  
"And you will know. This is the only way I can keep protecting you, Angel. If I follow their rules. And I will, follow their rules." Aurora laughed. "Not that I'm breaking thirty-seven of them with this very conversation."  
  
"I can't make you change your mind."  
  
She was very clear. "No."  
  
"Well then." He reached for her hand. "Thank you."  
  
The gesture caught her off guard. She looked at their entwined hands for a second. And then, "Angel," she said. "I know I wasn't supposed to meet you, but I don't regret I did. I think it makes my calling clearer to me."  
  
He started to shake his head, but she silenced him. "No, wait. Listen to me. Remember that the lives you touch are filled with love because of you. Cordelia. Wesley. You give them something they didn't have before, don't think that you don't. I just -- I just had to say that."  
  
He couldn't find a reply to it, her selflessness was rare to him, her sacrifice he still found a little irrational. "So I'll never see you again," he said instead.  
  
She smiled sadly. "If all goes well," she said.  
  
Angel nodded, understanding what he allowed himself to. Still holding her hand, he gently pulled her to him and kissed her. Her sigh was muffled against his mouth, their lips lightly touching. She was the first to pull away, and in their closeness he could feel her softly speaking under her breath.  
  
"Earth and moon, both sunlight see,  
In your shadow, hide only me."  
  
A soft breeze fluttered against his cheek. He opened his eyes and he already expected her to be gone.  
  
Gathering his bearings, he looked back towards the bar, straight into the eyes of Cordelia, who was looking at him with a strange sadness.  
  
His footsteps seemed heavier as he walked back to her.  
  
"Come on, big guy." she said, blotting her lips with the cocktail napkin. "Let's get out of here."  
  
"Wait, we haven't saved the girl yet."  
  
She shook her head. "We already did. Come on."  
  
  
The end.  
  
  



End file.
